Here is what I think I like. But is it too pansy-ish for a boy? We don't want him to be a pansy. Please advise.
It's surprising to me that I'm even looking at these, considering the fact that I am still spooked about getting things in order for him. I'm paranoid about putting things together, taking the tags off of his teeny tiny little clothes, washing things, etc. I'm just afraid of jinxing something or getting punished for counting my chickens before they hatch, so to speak. We have gotten the majority of everything we need for him (thanks to our fantastic friends and family!), but I refuse to open a single box. So, it's all just sitting in Logan's closet, not opened, washed, or put together. I keep telling the toys and stuffed animals in there to be patient. But just because you are paranoid doesn't mean they aren't after you...................
My dear friend Court has been harassing me to start putting stuff together and getting things in order, but I told her last week I would start on everything in 2011. However, as I was being admitted to the L&D* wing at Seton Hospital on Friday night and they asked me if I had a carseat ready to go, it occurred to me that I might need to figure out a way to overcome this paranoia. *(Oh that's what us experienced prego people say - it stands for Labor and Delivery for all of you rookies out there.)
YUP. You read that correctly. We had a test run on Friday night! You also read correctly that as you are checking into the hospital, [presumably] in labor, they ask you about a CAR SEAT.
Let me clarify - I was NOT in labor, but I (along with the doctor on call) thought that I MIGHT be due to some symptoms I was having. I won't bore or disgust you with the details (ok, yes I will, I was having these STABBING PAINS in my lower front right side about once every minute that were coinciding with Braxton Hicks contractions, and I was doubling over in pain. Cue the violins.).
It had been happening off and on all day, but I didn't think much about it until it started picking up on the way home from dinner. We decided I'd wait an hour before calling the doc to see if it got any better. Plus, I wanted to get my new BBerry set up (thanks, Santa Willis!) so we stopped by Sprint on the way home. It was getting progressively worse and the poor Sprint kid kept asking, "are you sure your stomach is ok?" which made us both rethink my wait-an-hour thinking.
Thirty minutes later, there I was in a johnny gown chillin in a hospital bed, hooked up the labor monitoring machines. As the way these things typically play out, the STABBING PAINS and contractions stopped happening the second I got in bed and hooked all up. They monitored me for an hour or so, and then the grand finale happened with the doc REALLY checking to make sure I wasn't in labor. I WILL spare you those details, but let's just say I wanted to ask her for a cigarette afterwards and find out if she was gonna call me the next day. Brown chicken brown cow.....
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| I didn't look much hotter than this in my johnny. |
Big shout out to Willis, by the way, who was Joe Cool through the whole ordeal. When we were in the car I asked him if he was scared because of my reactions to the pain, and he said "well it's hard to differentiate between your reactions because you have strong reactions to everything. Like I don't know if you are reacting that way because you're in pain, or because you dropped your lip gloss." HAHA!!
Stay cool, Willis.
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